


slowly /ˈsləʊli/

by Comedia



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Basically, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Reunion Fic, Sexual Tension, Tags: hurt and comfort, YES this is inspired by despacito, and it turned out a thousand times more serious than I expected, but it’s not a song fic, cursing, fairly graphic description of violence, gabriel is the most attractive person on the planet, old man angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-30 03:56:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12100185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Comedia/pseuds/Comedia
Summary: It was never puppy love, it was never “innocent” or “pure”. It was all-consuming hellfire and brimstone. It was Jack trying to come to turns with a lot all at once, while trying not to be driven mad by the constant itching beneath his skin.





	slowly /ˈsləʊli/

Gabriel had always had this air about him. Something calculated, thoughtful. The way he moved, the way he would survey a room - the way his lips would pull ever so slightly, ever so slowly, into a knowing smirk. Jack, the hot-headed, stubborn, heart-on-his-sleeve Indiana farm boy that he was, was bound to gravitate to everything that Gabriel used to be. It was never puppy love, it was never “innocent” or “pure”. It was all-consuming hellfire and brimstone. It was Jack trying to come to turns with a lot all at once, while trying not to be driven mad by the constant itching beneath his skin.

Gabriel took his damn time. Moved through their interactions with experience, and more grace than could perhaps be expected from one of the top performing super soldiers. When he caught Jack staring, he smiled - sometimes winked. When they talked, he would lean against the nearest wall, hips canted, always a bit too close - invading Jack’s space enough to stir a fire deep in his belly, but always with enough space to leave him wanting. When Jack volunteered to spar with Gabriel, he never held back, and always stayed up close - preferring to wrestle the farmboy to the ground rather than trading punches. And one day, when they found themselves alone in the gym late one night, Gabriel leaned in, close enough for his breath to ghost over Jack’s neck, his ear. A warm, earth shattering purr.

“I’ve got a shower in my room”, and then, a blurry walk and what could have been moments or eons later, as he closed the door behind them, “don’t shower, I like you like this.”

And as Jack, sweaty disheveled Jack, had the breath punched out of him with just those seven words, Gabriel gathered him in his arms and resurrected him with a soft, languid kiss. Careful, calculated, knowing in every touch. Jack had never felt his heart race in such a way before. His breath hitching, almost hyperventilating at the promise of finally being in Gabriel’s bed; in the hands wandering along his arms, thighs - playing along the waistline of his boxers.

He will never forget the way Gabriel had put his hand over Jack’s heart, looked into his eyes like he was drowning in those deep blues, and whispered “slow down pendejo, I’m not going anywhere”. How in the blink of an eye, what he thought would be a desperate one night stand turned into something so much more. Something that lasted almost twenty years; so many close-calls, late nights, arguments and broken promises. Through it all, they allowed this thing, this precious, all-consuming thing they had, all the time in the world. Their friends joked for years about marriage. About retirement. About honeymoons. And leave it up to Gabriel and Jack to slow down their timeline enough to time their marriage with the downfall of Overwatch. How long did it take until everything fell apart? A year? Two? Perhaps marriage really, truly, is the killing blow to any relationship. All Jack remembers is the heated arguments in the boardrooms, and the even more heated nights in their bedroom. He remembers the curve of Gabriel’s lower back; the short, shuddering breaths they’d share into the night. The whispers, the laughter. He remembers how they could never leave the other for long. Could never stop trailing cheeks, arms, chests, thighs, with their fingertips.

Jack thinks of Gabriel like he’s truly gone. His memories a monument of what he’s lost; despite the fact that Gabriel might still be all of the things he remembers - it’s just that he will never experience it again. Jack still wakes up tangled in sheets, breathing heavy. Tank top clinging to his chest, his lips tingling from where he’s bitten down. In these heart-pounding moments, when he has yet to put on his visor, sometimes the world seems blurry enough to be what it used to. He’s transported to another time. When he never woke up alone. When he wasn’t on the run. When things were allowed to take time. In these moments, he misses the way Gabriel would take him, slowly, lovingly. Fire in his eyes and worship in his touch. Prayer on his hitched breaths.

Soldier 76 doesn’t feel, doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t stop. He’s relentless in everything he does. But Jack Morrison is still that blue eyed farm boy from Indiana. He misses sipping whiskey throughout an evening, savouring the flavour, rather than downing a couple of shots of something bitter to soften his flashbacks, to lessen the shaking of his hands. Jack misses having weekends, days and nights and days, to lose himself in dark eyes and that alluring voice. Before, going slowly wasn’t something bad. These days life runs him by so quickly that he has to give it his all to keep up, and for all he knows it’s been weeks or months or years since before. The days flow together, life remain painfully the same while he’s speeding towards his imminent death. He’s always on the run. Always fighting. The only life old soldiers could dream of.

As far as he can tell, life didn’t turn out much better for Gabriel. The wraith of him still haunts the world, the streets they used to wander - the TV screens that Jack all too often finds himself glancing at.

The first couple of years Jack tries his damned hardest to not pay attention to Reaper. If he pretends that he's just another faceless goon - which he is, since he's wearing that stupid fucking mask - Jack can make it through the day without falling apart. He can keep up the pace like Gabriel Reyes is dead and in the ground, and like there's nothing in the world worth slowing down for.

Obviously this changes. Jack is a soldier - it's part of his programming to be observant. To evaluate threats and plan for any possible scenario. And Reaper is a threat, obviously, with that name and appearance and affiliation; he has to be. So eventually, one late night at a bar, with a deep cut in his shoulder that his leather jacket thankfully conceals, with a glass of some nameless, amber liquid - because really, who has the time to memorize the names of this shit; it exists for one damn reason and Jack utilizes it for just that - he starts paying attention. He glances at the news being broadcast behind the counter, and he sees something unexpected. 

Jack had never prepared for this scenario. In his mind it was either; "accept that Reaper is Gabriel, and then kill him", or "never accept that Reaper is Gabriel, still kill him because he's a threat". He never thought it to be complex. Since Switzerland, he just couldn't allow himself that. Couldn't allow his feelings to keep him from doing the right thing.

Allowing Gabriel the benefit of the doubt would be to betray Overwatch, betray the world. But to not acknowledge unexpected behavior would be to betray everything Gabriel used to be, and if Jack found himself doing that, he might as well give up this miserable existence altogether.

So, this is what he sees. He sees a news report from a town nearby - just a few hours, so close it’s actually sickening. He sees a terror attack, clearly Talon’s handiwork, most of it caught on camera, meant to be seen. Meant to frighten. And he sees Reaper, with that tacky coat and pathetic teen-angst mask, shielding a family from the firefight. Jack sees a super soldier - the man he would follow anywhere - shooting so carelessly that he takes out a couple of Talon operatives by accident. Except Gabriel Reyes doesn’t make mistakes, and it is undoubtedly Gabriel Reyes beneath that mask. Not some wraith, not some gruesome Talon experiment. It’s Gabe through and through, and Jack barely has time to remove his visor before he finds himself throwing up in the shabby bathroom of the bar. Years ago he would have found this unbefitting, but his life has been anything but dignified these past years. He’s relied solely on adrenaline and vengeance to push forward. Everything that he’s suppressed comes surging back at once, and the feelings have nowhere to go. In a way he’s purging the shell of a man he used to be. When he leaves the bar a while later, there’s an ease to his step that he hasn’t known in years. And for once he has a mission that does not involve violence or death, it simply involves observation - and only a few towns over.

Soldier 76 could rush over there in an instant. Could push his body to the absolute limit just to get there quickly, but Jack has been waiting for years. He can allow himself to take it slow. To think things through, just a bit, before he’s actually in the midst of this absolute chaos with no way of turning back. So he takes the scenic route. Gets on a train, and stares out the window during the entire ride. His bare hands resting on the clasp of his bag. Soldier 76 travels lightly, only bringing extra ammunition and a change of underwear. Jack Morrison? Not so much. Beneath all that other crap, there are some… other things. A couple of badges from when they were young, a ring he hasn’t worn in a long time. All sentimental items, things of no value to a lone wanderer. But Jack was never really alone, was he? He held on to them for a reason.

Before he gets off the train, he puts the ring on his left hand. The metal feels smooth and cool against his skin, but not alien. He’d forgotten how comforting such a small object could be. How connected he could feel to something so - logically, strategically - pointless.

The first couple of days he keeps to the alleys. The rooftops. Shadowing a shadow, always seeing past the dark coats, the hoodies, the sunglasses. Gabriel was always good at stealth operations, but only because he never had to carry them out against Jack. After so many years together, Jack could recognize his lover in the dust of his footprints, the echo of his breaths.

On the third day, Gabriel turns around. Glowering through the thin slits of the Reaper mask. Staring straight at Soldier 76, where he’s leaning against a chimney. Of course Gabriel knows exactly where he is - Jack doesn’t expect any less. He doesn’t attempt to hide. Now and then, all he’s ever wanted is to be seen by Gabriel Reyes.

During the day he dresses down. Takes the visor off. Spends hours upon hours at coastal cafés. Listening to the sound of the sea, holding up books to his face, unable to read a single word. There are three things Jack wishes that he could see with his own eyes; the sea, the fields of Indiana, and Gabriel’s eyes - lit up by laughter. It’s not hard to imagine any of these things. Nor is it hard to put on the visor and get a fairly decent representation of the world around him. But he cannot help but feel separated from reality. Feel like he’ll never quite be present again. And so, he keeps on dreaming.

On the fifth day Talon leaves the coastal town, but Reaper stays behind. Soldier 76 observes the departure from an alleyway, overhears Reaper’s noncommittal “got some business to attend to”, and watches the other operatives be too intimidated to question his decision. Once the street has emptied out, Reaper puts his face in his hands. At first it seems like he might be crying - his shoulders twitching unevenly - but then Jack realizes that he’s removing his mask. Once the dark-clad figure turns around again, it’s Gabriel. Sure, there are many new scars, and he’s in a tacky outfit, in pants that leave nothing to the imagination, but it’s Gabriel all the same.

“Tomorrow, sunset, at the pier.” His natural voice carries so much better than the artificial Reaper mask ever could. Echoes through the alley, a welcome heat in the chilly evening. “That’s all you get. Nothing more.”

Jack nods, and then instantly turns to leave. Gabriel does not attempt to stop him. He wants nothing more than to stay, but that voice, so real, so truly, actually real… another word and he would probably find himself throwing up again. Or even worse, crying.

An endless night of no sleep, and he can’t even touch himself to find some relief. All he does is play with the ring on his left hand, repeating Gabriel’s words over and over. Years later, and his voice is just like Jack remembers. Warm, with a bite to it. More alluring than anything else in this world.

He spends the day in bed, because he truly has nothing better to do. In the evening he find himself standing in front of the mirror. In the reflection is a shell of a man. Scarred skin, eyes hollow. Yet he’s still standing with a perfect, military pose. Back straight, hair neatly combed. To blend in, he’s gone for a more subdued jacket and pants, the visor is unfortunately not optional. Not tonight. Same with the gloves on his hands - uncomfortable, but necessary to cover the scars. To cover the ring. Everything about this feels ridiculous, like he’s getting ready for a date, and boy, isn’t that the biggest joke of a century.

Once he’s out the door he turns right back around. Chugs about five of the small bottles from the mini fridge before heading out again.

Gabriel is already at the pier. Always on time; few people know that he got the reputation of being a hardass not because of being violent, but because how strict he is with punctuality. Jack was always the chill cop, to Gabe’s stick-up-his-ass cop.

Jack approaches slowly. Allows both of them all the time in the world to pull away. To get away before it’s too late. Neither of them flees, obviously. Stubborn, hard-headed super soldiers; how on earth could this end any other way?

Gabriel is in civilian clothes. Dark pants, grey hoodie. Hood pulled up, sunglasses on. As if anyone would possibly recognize the face of Reaper without a mask. It takes a moment for Jack to remember the life they had before. That there are still people that could recognize Gabriel Reyes the war hero, instead of Reaper the terrorist.

“Hi.”

Gabriel takes off his sunglasses, and then immediately rolls his eyes. His every move is erratic, like his body is too small for him. Like he has no idea what to do with whatever is raging within him.

“Jack, this is…” He turns to face the ocean. “Why are you here?”

“Why do you think?” Voice garbled through the mouthpiece, Gabriel’s skin an annoying hue of orange through the visor.

Gabriel’s shoulders move smoothly beneath his hoodie. It’s possibly a shrug, but Jack just finds himself marveling at the movement. No matter how baggy the clothes, it’s still obvious that there’s muscle underneath. “I honestly don’t know what to think, pendejo. It’s been years.”

Soldier 76 has never considered it particularly important to express nuance in his voice. Thus he’s never looked into upgrading his equipment to something a little more sophisticated. Something adapted for longer conversations. Before saying anything else, Jack removes the piece covering his mouth. Clears his throat, actually ends up coughing a few times.

“Are you surprised it took me this long?” It’s like he never learned to talk in the first place; every word feels like he’s just fumbling in the dark. Heavy and uncomfortable on the tip of his tongue. “You haven’t been keeping the best company, Reaper.”

Gabriel laughs at that. Short, quick, harsh. “And you haven’t been keeping company at all, Soldier 76. Raiding Overwatch bases on your own, killing criminals…”

“Well, I guess we both have our own way of handling trauma.” Jack doesn’t mean to to sneer, but Gabriel has always had an ability to get beneath his skin. As his lips pull back, he can feel his scars strain. “And who are you to bring that shit up? I saw you killing your own Talon operatives, or did you forget about that slip up?”

A heartbeat, and then Gabriel is in his space. Eyes burning, lips pulled thin. “My operatives? How fucking dare you! Do you seriously think I’d side with Talon?”

“Oh fuck you, Gabriel.” His words have no bite - fall meaningless between them. Because Gabriel is so close now. The last time they were like this, the last time Jack was close enough to feel the heat of his lover, they were smeared across a floor in Switzerland. Mangled bodies, bleeding out, their argument cut short by the blast. Jack doesn’t remember much from those days, but some nights he still remember his heart racing. How his palms were so warm and sticky, and how he saw his own blood pool on the floor beneath them, but all he could do was press down on Gabriel’s abdomen, where debris had torn straight through him.

Closed fists. The ring cutting into his finger beneath his glove. His voice barely audible when he speaks. “You didn’t exactly reach out to tell me anything different.”

“No, I didn’t.” Gabriel leans back, allows Jack some space - it’s the last thing he wants. “But I never stopped… I looked out for you, you know? Felt pathetic as fuck, after everything. But I just couldn’t...”

“We’ve always been equally pathetic.” It’s too much like reminiscing. Too much like old times. Jack’s eyes are drawn to Gabriel’s lips. That soft curve, always slightly parted, like there’s something on his mind.

The silence is drawn out. Comfortable, all things considered. First there’s a twitch at the corner of Gabriel’s mouth. Then the tip of his tongue slowly wets his lips. The movement is calculated, knowing - and so utterly delicious.

“Did you ever stop watching me, pendejo?”

“I tried. For a bit. Before I got the visor it was quite easy, being blind and all.” Jack hesitates, closes his eyes, leans his head back a bit. His hand hits the visor, as he attempts to pinch the bridge of his nose. “But even then… I always saw you. In my dreams, in my work... it’s always been you, Gabe. How could I not watch you?”

It’s like Gabriel doesn’t even speak. His voice is nothing but a breath, hopeless, longing, helpless. “Oh mi querido.”

That pronunciation, like honey. Like home. Jack doesn’t rush forward. Doesn’t throw himself in Gabriel’s arms like he did once upon a time. Because back then, someone dear to him taught him the beauty of taking your time. Of doing it slow. So he leans in, close enough to feel that scent again; the earthy smell of a field after rain; cinnamon; something burning - a wildfire raging through it all. He removes the glove of his left hand, letting the ring gleam in the subdued streetlight. The breath of Gabriel, hitched, and his eyes are glimmering with tears; dark, wide mirrors of years of longing; want; lust.

First, Jack’s hand at the small of Gabriel’s back. Soft fingertips, but the grip firm enough to bring them together. Then, his gaze meeting Gabe’s, wandering to his parted lips, lingering. Breaths leaving both of them as they’re suspended in the moment, in the anticipation.  
Finally, the inevitable. Chapped, warm lips against his. Tingling stubble. Gabriel parting his lips for Jack like it’s their wedding day, and like this is the only thing they’ll be doing until the end of time. Jack has been here before. Felt his heart race and his entire body surging forward like a landslide, needing to be closer, needing this, only this, until they both are truly dead and gone.

It builds slowly. The heat, the desperation. The relieved butterfly kisses turn rough. The way Gabriel traces Jack’s body, like a map he’s studied for years. How he places kisses along his jaw, like he knows Jack down to his very bones. Like the years separating them were nothing but a couple of heartbeats. Gabriel has always been all consuming, always had this air about him, like he sees Jack for what he really is. Like all he needs to do is raise an eyebrow to make him unravel.

As they part, Gabriel leans forward. Forehead against forehead. His hitched breaths turn to giggles, turns to deep laughter that shakes his body. Jack’s visor gets all fogged up, but through the fog a blurry image takes shape. Dark eyes alight with joy, a wide, tantalizing smile. There are rolling waves behind them, somewhere out there in the night. If they weren’t already married, Jack would get on his knees this very instant.

Instead Gabe takes the lead. Surges forward to capture his lips once again. To cradle his face and stare through the orange tint of the visor.

“Need you”, he purrs in Jack’s ear. Nothing but heat and want. “Needed you for so long, too long, Jack. Please.”

Jack can feel his lips quirk, almost of their own volition. He’s falling through the years, ten, fifteen, twenty years into the past. Words of old ringing in his ears. He holds Gabriel tight, resting his head on his shoulders, breathing in over and over. This is real, this is Gabriel, and he will once again know this. Know someone more intimately than he knows himself. 

“Slow down, Gabe”, his voice is hoarse. Stuttering slightly. He’s not used it for much but barking commands and drink orders these past couple of years. It takes a while to find his way back, to land in something so intimate. A couple of deep breaths, another kiss on Gabe’s lips, still slightly parted, still so inviting. “I’m not going anywhere. Ever again.”

This is who they are. From the moment they met, until the end, they will always have this. The heat. The hunger. And they will go slow, no matter how quickly life rushes them by.

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes I write short things on [tumblr](http://comediakaidanovsky.tumblr.com/) as well (but mostly I just cry about fictional characters).


End file.
